


Tonight, I Fall

by Schmidt1012



Series: Kinktober & Flufftober 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom John Winchester, Bye Bye Butt Virginity, Come as Lube, Consent is Sexy, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, First Time Bottoming, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Top Dean Winchester, Winchesters versus Feelings, ass worship, nsfw gif inside, slight somnophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmidt1012/pseuds/Schmidt1012
Summary: The door to John's room was locked. But that wouldn't stop Dean to visit his father every night to get what he wanted.Chapter 1: Ass WorshipChapter 2: RimmingChapter 3: CreampieChapter 4: IntercruralChapter 5: Frottage





	1. Day 2: Ass Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes are all mine (I'm sure there will be).

As John lie down on his stomach, he heard the door to his room was being unlocked, slowly turning its doorknob open with a soft click.

Dean was late this time.

Through his half-lidded eyes, feigning sleep, Dean’s silhouette merged into the darkness as the door carefully being shut cut off the light coming from the hallway. Head buried in his pillow, John could feel Dean’s intense gaze bore into his back, leisurely drinking the sight of his _sleeping_ father.

After a few excruciating seconds later, the lock to his door clicked and soft footsteps soon to follow.

John held his breath and kept his body still as his bed dipped under Dean’s weight, not wanting to break their unspoken agreement.

It had been a couple of months now since everything had started. When the first time had happened, that John was aware of, he was too shocked to move and just let Dean finished what he was doing. What happened during the second, the third, and the fourth time was also the same, John letting his son _touch_ him.

The fifth time was different though. Because that time, John turned to look at Dean – look at Dean deep into his eyes, which was a big mistake that had his son scrambling towards the door while muttering apologies. After that, John thought it would finally stop. He’s wrong. Dean kept coming back, up to the extent of lock picking his door to get what he wanted.

Behind him, John heard his son’s labored breaths as he slowly moved towards his father. Shutting his eyes, John’s own breathing hitched at the first contact, Dean’s hand softly grazing his thigh. He didn’t move an inch. Moving meant ending what hadn’t started yet, so he kept his body lax and enjoy the warmth of Dean’s hand. That lasted for a full minute, Dean marveling his beefy thigh, before moving upward to cup his ass.

Dean’s mouth released a trembling breath as his fingers reached the garter of his father’s sweatpants, excited and nervous at the same time. Slowly, Dean pulled them down just enough to expose John’s hairy ass. Giving both cheeks a firm squeeze, the bed dipped again as Dean changed position to have a better angle.

Without warning, John felt a pair of soft lips pressing against his heated skin, peppering him with feather-light kisses. As Dean’s lips parted, he could feel his son’s warm breath before a set of blunt teeth sank into his skin to clamp on his flesh.

John was getting hard, his erection trapped between his weight and the mattress. He bit his arm to muffle his moan when Dean‘s velvety tongue draw a long, wet stripe on one of his cheeks while squeezing the other a little too hard. With each passing night, Dean’s tongue was getting a little adventurous with its movement, inching closer and closer towards John’s crack.

Giving John’s ass another kiss, Dean’s hands eased their grip as he slowly pulled his face away.

The silence of his room was long gone and now replaced by their combined heavy breathing. To hell with acting, Dean just wanted him to stay still, pretend that he’s sleeping. Besides, whenever both of them had reached a point where they were both on edge, Dean didn’t care if he shuffled a little or make some noise. Hell, Dean already knew he was awake in the first place. It’s just… what had gotten to his son’s head, he didn’t know.

With a frustrated grunt, Dean pulled John’s hips upward and pulled his sweatpants lower, exposing his father’s ass. It would be Dean’s first time doing that to him. Previously, Dean was fine by just… touching, but just like what John had suspected, Dean was getting a little adventurous with every encounter.

Scrambling behind him, John could see his son through the darkness pulling his pajama bottoms down and releasing his aching cock. Wasting no time, Dean grabbed his waist with both hands before roughly running it to spread the cheeks. John yelped at the sudden and unfamiliar rough handling but Dean didn’t pay him any mind and continued what he’s there for. Quickly, Dean wedged his face between his father’s cheeks and buried himself even deeper by spreading the ass wider.

The way Dean had grabbed his flesh, blunt fingernails digging into his skin, had sent a dull, pleasurable ache to him. It’s weird thinking that he’s getting aroused by his son. It’s simply wrong, to start with, but there’s something about the darkness of his room that made them _equal_. And the fact that he’s supposed to be sleeping while Dean was… _doing his thing_ … was their safety bubble. Both of them could deny and pretend that there’s nothing happening between them every night. 

Unabashed, Dean took another lungful of his father’s scent before withdrawing his left hand, his right grazing up to the small of John’s back to caress it.

A sigh of relief escaped John’s mouth. Dean, who’s reaching for his leaking cock, was already content for the night. Seconds later, the bed’s springs creaked as Dean started jerking his length. John both loved and dreaded this part. On one hand, the long night would finally end, but on the other, Dean would soon leave him alone to take care of his own business.

He didn’t know what to do. Even if he tried to stop and scare Dean now, he knew Dean would still come back. And besides, he’s fine with it.

His back still being caressed, John gasped when he felt Dean biting the left cheek of his ass, hard, precome started to ooze from the tip of his cock. Releasing his father’s hairy ass, Dean straightened his back, and just like every other night, sprayed his load onto John’s backside with a choked grunt.

And just like that, even if his knees were trembling and he’s gasping for air, Dean left just like how he entered, quiet and drinking the sight of his father, ass still exposed and covered with come.

The moment he heard the door shut, John quickly scooped Dean’s come from behind and used it to lubricate his cock. After a few strokes, John came hard grunting into his pillow, releasing all tension that had built up in his body. Breathless, he blindly reached for the lukewarm cloth he had prepared earlier from the nightstand to clean himself.

Ignoring the blooming shame in his chest, feeling used and dirty, John didn’t know what would happen between him and Dean if this continued. All he knew was he couldn’t wait another night for Dean to visit him again.


	2. Day 12: Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the hospital! Yeah, I know this is late but better late than never, right? :D  
> Look's like I couldn't do the other days' challenges (Yes, I'm that incompetent. And I'm literally late), so I'll just make this fic a chaptered one, each representing a certain kink.
> 
> \---
> 
> Mistakes are all mine. And take care of yourself, you good people. :)

John gasped as he felt Dean’s velvety tongue prodded deeper in his hole.

Too exhausted from his work at the garage, he didn’t hear Dean enter his room this time. In fact, what roused him from his deep slumber was the slicked finger pressing inside him. How long Dean had been inside his room, _eating_ him, he didn’t know. Judging how his sloppy hole welcomed the finger easily, he figured his son had prepped him thoroughly for his virgin ass to do that.

As he lay there unmoving on his stomach – chest heaving and spread eagle, just like how Dean wanted him, John lost track of time how long his son had been doing that thing with his tongue. The way the tip of Dean's tongue circled around his trembling rim before plunging it inside together with his finger, all John could do was to bite his lips to muffle his unmanly whimpers. Everything felt good, too good actually, but he couldn’t do anything about it – reaching climax without touching himself.

Between his legs, he could feel the steady stream of pre-come dripping from the tip of his cock when Dean rubbed that bundle of joy inside of him a little too hard, seeping and making a mess on his mattress. He was still catching his breath when Dean pressed harder with his finger – _fingers_ , stars bursting in the back of his head and making him see white.

_Sneaky fucker, when did he put that second finger?_

Head under his stack of pillows, John's body trembled as he struggled to gasp for air. He wanted to say that he almost blacked out there for a second, but with darkness around him, he couldn't really tell. When he woke up, the pillows were already there, hiding his face and preventing him from seeing shit, his perverted son was probably aware that his more perverted father loved watching him in the dark.

“Fuck,” With another perfectly angled stroke on his prostate, John couldn’t help but curse and gave in to the pleasure. _Pleasure?_ His lust-fogged brain questioned, feeling how Dean chuckled deeply behind him.

He didn’t know if it’s pleasure anymore. Dean was teasing him – torturing him – with his _talented_ fingers, unhurriedly applying pressure on his _sweet spot_ that slowly turned him into an incoherent mess. Hands clawing and trying to get a purchase from the bed sheet, John pushed his hips back as he tried to impale himself with his son’s tongue and fingers. He wanted more. _More more more_. He wanted to come.

“More,” He caught himself begging. He couldn’t care less what his son would think of him. The teasing had lasted long enough to bear. And all he wanted now was release. “Please, more.”

There were no restrains stopping him to reach down on his erection. It’s so easy to let go and do it himself. But with their unspoken rule, John couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find the strength to do it. Whatever was between him and his son every night, he didn’t want to break it.

He didn’t want Dean to stop visiting him.

Nothing had changed between them. When the sun was at present, they’re just father and son. The things happening every night didn’t affect their relationship. Well, maybe they became physically closer with each other, but nothing out of the ordinary, like how their touches lingered whenever they teased each other or how close they sat on the couch whenever they’re watching TV. One time, Sam had caught them snuggling but they didn’t seem to mind.

“Come on,” Breathless, John coaxed. The pleasure was too much, but at the same time, not enough to push him on edge, “give it to me.”

_Give what to me?_

John didn’t know what exactly. Yes, he wanted to come, but his body was _yearning_ for something more. His hole was loose and sloppy with spit. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t figure out what he wanted.

He wanted his son to fuck him.

A whimper escaped his mouth when Dean withdrew his fingers, leaving his hole empty and gaping. Relieved or irritated by the loss of pressure, Dean didn’t give him a chance to think. With a quick pull of his hips, he found himself bent over while Dean was planting – pushing – his face flat on the mattress before covering his face with pillows. He suspected that his son didn’t want to see his face, something he should be fine with, but he’s not.

***Smack***

Dean slapped his ass, hard, sending a sharp pain throughout his body and halting his train thought.

***Smack***

Without warning, Dean slapped him again on the same spot. “Fuck,” John swore through his gritted teeth as the heat started to bloom on his right cheek. It stung but Dean’s blunt fingernails digging into his skin distracted him from the pain, spreading him open. How Dean positioned himself behind his father, John supposed his release would be delayed. Dean hadn’t had enough fun yet and wanted to continue eating him.

With his more vulnerable position, the older man’s anticipation heightened as hot breath hit his more exposed hole. _Come on, son. It ain’t gonna eat itself_. John mentally said to himself, Dean’s unsolicited slapping calmed him down a little to control his mouth. And as if Dean could read his thought, Dean finally leaned forward after marveling _the view_. How Dean found his backside enticing, John didn’t want to know.

Surprised, John shuddered as he felt his son’s tongue lick his heavy balls before running it along his perineum, until finally, reaching his pulsing hole. Dean didn’t waste any time. He plunged his tongue inside and fucked his father with it. In and out, Dean alternated from licking, sucking and probing. There’s no uncertainty with Dean’s mouth, devouring John’s hole like he was only making out with someone.

_…Or sucking a Jell-O._

John chuckled at his poor comparison but a long swipe of Dean’s tongue had him moaning.

Squeezing his cheeks, Dean pulled his face and started shuffling. John didn’t protest at the loss of contact this time. Gasping for air, in which the pillows made it hard for him, he strained his ears and heard his son’s heavy breathing. He had been enjoying himself too much that he had forgotten about his son.

Kneeling behind him, he heard Dean spit that had his guts fluttering in excitement. He should be nervous about what would happen next – if he and Dean were thinking the same thing, of course. But he's not. He's anything but nervous.

There, John could feel it, the blunt head of his son’s length pointing hesitantly at his entrance. John didn’t let Dean pussying out this time. Hell, Dean had been teasing him way too long. Slowly, he pushed back onto the cock, his well-prepped hole resisting at the intrusion. The spit wasn’t cutting it so he took a deep breath and pushed out until the head popped inside.

“Stop,” Dean choked out as he gripped his father’s hips. “W-wait.”

“I can take it,” John assured, voice muffled by the dome of pillows. He felt his hole being stretched as he ground on the pulsing flesh, splitting himself in half. Sure, there’s a little discomfort but there’s something about his son’s labored breaths that had him wanting more.

The hands futilely keeping him from moving suddenly held him in a bruising grip, and before he knew it, Dean was already withdrawing his cock free from his tight ass.

“I fucking told you to stop.” Dean gritted out as jets of come spurted out from his cock, covering his father’s hairy ass with his load.

Amused at his son’s premature ejaculation, John couldn’t help but thought all of the nights Dean had left him alone covered in spunk, bumming him out. As the thick come slowly trickle on his heated skin, the hands on his hips eased their grip and it’d only a matter of seconds now until Dean would exit his room – a minute, max. Closing his eyes, waiting for Dean to leave, John’s eyes flew open when Dean collapsed beside him, mattress sinking with the sudden weight.

One by one, the pillows covering his head was being removed, until finally, revealing his flushed face. Still catching his breath, Dean watched him as he slowly rolled onto his back. His son caught sight of his neglected erection, nestled on his untrimmed dark bushes. Even though it’s dark, John saw the remnants of lust looming on his son’s eyes, unsatisfied of what just happened.

“Dean--”

“Don’t talk.” Dean cut his father off. Averting John’s eyes, Dean sat up and glanced at the door.

With that, John expected his son to leave, knowing full well that there’s no reason for him to stay. What he didn’t expect was Dean reaching down to cup his hairy balls, fondling them, before closing his rough fingers around the base of his cock.

“You don’t have to.” John choked out when Dean started stroking his length. Dean didn’t stop. In fact, the hand around his cock gripped him tighter and moved faster. Throwing his head back, all John could do was to enjoy the sensation, meeting Dean’s firm strokes with uncoordinated movement. “Dean,” John warned breathlessly. He’s close and the only reply he got was Dean’s other hand cupping his balls. “I-I’m coming.”

Head trashing from side to side, John bellowed as he came hard, spilling his load on his furred torso and stomach, and probably, his son’s hand. Through his half-lidded eyes, he found Dean looking at him with amusement. Too blissed out to care, he reached out to cup his son’s cheek that the younger man accepted, leaning into his touch, _humming_.

Their eyes met, and seconds later, John saw how panic surged in Dean’s features. Eyes wide, Dean let go of his spent cock and quickly scrambled off the bed.

“Dean, wait--” John started but Dean was gone before John could even finish his sentence. “ _Fuck_.”

Scrubbing the frustration off his face, John sank back into his bed, unsure of what he did wrong. If only they could talk about this.

_What am I going to do with you, Dean?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or Nivanfield (Chris Redfield/ Piers Nivan) looks like Dean/John.


	3. Day 13: Creampie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are all mine, and mine alone :)

The amusement could be heard as Dean scoffed behind John at the sight.

His son had just entered his room, nimbly lockpicking the door – old thing didn’t even give Dean a challenge, and the first thing that had greeted the younger Winchester was the box of condoms and a small bottle of lube sitting between John’s parted legs. John didn’t bother wearing anything tonight, exposing his muscular back in all its glory, chiseled by physical labor at the garage. Besides, he didn’t want Dean tearing his last pair of pajamas. The impatient fucker tore his drawers last night, John noticed that morning.

The mattress sank as Dean slowly positioned himself between John’s legs. Head resting on his crossed forearms, John hummed when Dean’s rough hands knead his firm ass, thumbs dipping dangerously close to his asshole. For a moment, Dean was _massaging_ him, but seconds later, soft lips were pressed against his skin. It lasted for a full minute, the kissing, the licking and biting. But unlike the previous nights, Dean didn’t take his time – or tease his father, John hoped – as the younger man spat at the exposed hole, surprising the older Winchester.

John shuddered how the spit slowly trickled from his hole to his legs, Dean's finger scooping some of it back to his entrance. Without giving him a heads up, Dean pressed his spit-slick finger, penetrating the tight ring of muscle, until the first knuckle was buried inside. The only consolation he got from his son's sudden intrusion was the soft kiss bushing the small of his back as if Dean was a little apologetic of what he did, but the way Dean's lips curve into a smile, John figured that the bastard enjoyed the surprise noises coming from him.

“You fucker,” John gritted as the thick finger inside him started squirming. He wouldn’t admit this but he wished that Dean had rimmed him first, slicking his ass open until he was relaxed to take the digit, just like last night. Not like this. He’s dry inside and he could feel the burn of being stretched, how the finger sank millimeter by millimeter with its movement. “Use the lube, you idio--”

The words were caught in John’s throat when Dean hooked his finger inside the tight heat, hitting that perfect spot that had John clawing on the mattress, cursing intelligibly.

“Don’t talk," Dean whispered with a commanding tone.

Slowly, the finger inside John pulled out, and then Dean was reaching behind him to get the lube.

 _Looks like the lube you bought ain’t just money down the drain, Winchester._ John thought. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’d let his son fuck him with just spit. Huh, look at that, there’s something obviously wrong with that sentence but John was more worried about Dean’s preference when it comes to lubricant.

As John lay there, waiting and trying not to clench his ass close, his ears caught the clicking sound of lube’s cap being opened. He couldn’t understand why, but suddenly, his heart started pounding against his chest, like it wanted to get out. _Fuck_. He’s forty-one years old, but he felt like an excited teenager having sex for the first time.

It seemed that hiding his face had its perk: his son wouldn’t see him _blushing_.

"Ass up," Dean ordered with a playful slap against his father’s firm ass.

John who’s supposed to be ‘sleeping’ obeyed, raising his hairy ass in the air but keeping his flushed face hidden with his forearms. Behind him, he heard his son puffed out a shuddering breath before squeezing the lube directly onto his hole.

 _Fuck, that’s cold_. John gasped as the cold liquid made contact with his heated skin. The cold didn’t last long though. Quickly, the pad of Dean’s thumb warmed up the lube as he smeared it around John’s tight rim, teasing and pressing every now and then. Compared to how Dean had _poked_ him earlier, there’s something about the firm yet soft touches his son was doing, successfully coaxing him to relax.

John didn’t want it to sound cheesy but he found it sweet.

Also, Dean would kill him if he said that his eldest son was sweet.

Relaxed, the thumb was now slowly easing its way inside John, his well-lubed hole taking it with no resistance. Too focused at the tingling sensation and watching his breathing, he didn’t notice that Dean was talking to him. The blood pumping in his head didn’t help as it drowned whatever words escaped Dean’s mouth.

“Fuck,” John groaned when Dean hooked his thumb inside, pressing at the delicious spot, his knees turning jelly. “Easy there, tiger.”

“May I fuck you?”

“What?” John asked, unsure of if he heard it right.

Withdrawing his finger, Dean repeated. “M-may… may I fuck you?”

The trembling and uncertainty of Dean's voice were caught by John's ears, his fatherly instinct kicking in to comfort his son. His body moving on its own, he found himself kneeling in front of Dean, who’s equally stark naked, after shuffling on the bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Cupping Dean’s cheek, John asked, worried. He could feel that the younger man wanted to flee but his gaze pinned Dean in place. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this. It’s all my fault, what is happening to us. And I don’t… I-I don’t want…” Dean didn’t finish and tried to move away, but his father’s strong hand found its way around his neck and held him still. “I don’t want you to… You’re not…”

“Hey, it’s okay, kiddo,” John assured, Dean mumbling he’s not a kid anymore. True, he's not gay if Dean was worried about that. Hell, their sexuality – both him and his son – was the least of their problem. They’re father and son for fuck’s sake. Besides, he couldn’t see himself doing this kind of stuff with other men beside Dean. Maybe he’s bi but he’s sure as hell that he’s gay for his son. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on Dean’s forehead and continued. “None of this is your fault, okay? I just know I’m irresistible.”

That brought a smile into Dean’s face. Not the cocky way how Dean always did it, but it was the most honest smile John had ever seen his son made.

“So… you’re okay… with me?”

There something more hidden there, but that’s a can of worms John was afraid to open. “Sneaking in my room?” John inquired. Dean nodded. “Yes, I’m okay with it.” _More than okay, actually_. “But I want you to know that you’re technically raping me every night without my consent, but this I tell you, I’m enjoying myself more than you could imagine.”

After a few seconds that felt like minutes of Dean and John staring at each other’s eyes, Dean finally nodded and whispered. “Thank you.”

Thumbing Dean's cheek, John hummed with comprehension. As they both fell in a comfortable silence, between their legs, John noticed that they were both flaccid. “You want to stop now, go to sleep?”

And just like that, his son’s cock sprang back to life, bobbing up and down. “Hell no. You’re not blue balling me, old man.”

With that, John found himself on all fours, rocking his hips back to meet Dean’s fingers, teasing, scissoring and working him open while Dean’s free hand was rubbing soothing circles on top of the small of his back. A string of curses escaped his mouth when Dean twisted his fingers and dragged them across his prostate, precome leaking wildly from the tip of his cock.

“You ready for me yet?” Dean asked impatiently. He tried squeezing a third finger inside the tight heat and John’s slicked hole accepted it with little resistance. “I can’t wait to feel you around me, squeezing my dick.”

Breathless, John nodded. “Then fuck me already, asshole, stop teasing. And if you don’t mind, please last for a whole minute this time. I don’t want you spilling your load like a fucking virgin – ah!” John grunted, loudly, the younger man behind him rapidly assaulted his prostate at the remark. “Shit! What was that for, you want me to come, boy?”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he hastily withdrew his fingers and replaced it with the blunt head of his rock hard cock. “You’ll regret reminding me that.” With one thrust, Dean unceremoniously buried half of his bare length inside the pulsing heat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

John's eyes widened at the sudden intrusion. He felt like burning from the inside, Dean’s throbbing length was so warm inside of him, stretching him open and taking his breath away. The defensive mechanism of his body wanted to run, pull it out and clench. But even if he wanted to, Dean’s bruising grip on his hips prevented him from doing so. Blindly, he twisted his body and pressed his palm against his son’s hip. “Don’t move yet.” Fuck, even with the thorough preparation and liberal amount of lube, John felt like he’s tearing apart.

“Just breathe.”

“Fuck breathing,” John spat, discomforted by the burn of being filled. “Just stop moving.”

Dean did stop after that. He ran his hands up and down John’s back before leaning in to kiss the sweaty skin, apologetic.

With that, John tried to catch his breath and focused on the soft lips against his sweaty skin. The last thing he wanted now was for Dean to feel guilty, and of course, he wanted to make this pleasurable to both of them. When he found himself relaxing around Dean’s erection, he started grinding, slowly but surely, burying himself into his son’s eager cock. After a few minutes of grinding and Dean’s drilling motion, he groaned at the feel of Dean’s pubes pressing against his hairy ass, their balls touching.

“Give me a sec,” John breathed out, smiling. The discomfort was still there but he couldn’t deny how good it felt, how perfect it felt. And no matter how wrong everything between their coitus acts was, something felt right with this: Dean being inside him. It felt too good that he didn’t give a rat ass about Dean not wearing a condom.

They’d have a talk about protection later, but not now.

“Whenever you're ready," Dean mumbled while nipping on John’s shoulder, his chest flushed against his father’s broad, muscular back. “You feel so good, _John_ , so warm... so tight.”

After a couple of minutes of adjusting and slowly rocking their bodies, John was finally ready. He experimentally squeezed Dean and his son responded by flexing his cock, making it feel bigger. _Bigger_. Dean didn’t need to hear those words from him. It’d only add fuel to his huge burning ego, and John didn’t want that.

“I’ll move now, okay,” Dean breathed out behind John’s ear, voice trembling with need. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” Kissing his father’s neck one last time, he straightened out his back and ran his fingertips along the flushed skin, tracing the toned muscles, before digging his fingers into John’s waist.

John nodded once and lowered his head as Dean started moving, pulling almost completely out and slamming back in. Dean fucked him with long, languid strokes, and there’s nothing shy about his son’s movement.

“Son of a bitch, that feels good." John praised when Dean found his prostate and kept stroking it with his length. Seconds later, they found a rhythm with him rolling his hips to meet Dean’s punishing thrusts until the room was filled with the obscene sound of sweaty skin slapping sweaty skin, his lube-slicked ass squelching as it greedily accepted his son's length, their grunts and groans, and intelligible curses.

Behind him, droplets of sweat fell steadily on his ass as Dean’s thrusts became erratic, pounding his father with all his might. Dean was close, and fuck, he was too. Reaching for his cock, thanking the heavens for his freedom to do so, John jerked himself in sync with Dean’s strokes. Suddenly, a heavy weight fell on his back and Dean’s hand circling around his cock, replacing John’s hand with his own.

"Let me," Dean said before increasing his pace, if that's even possible, and started stroking John with a firm grip.

A few tugs and strokes later, John couldn’t handle the sensations coming at him all at once and was spilling his load thickly on the mattress with a shout. Spurt by forceful spurt, Dean was milking his father’s shaft empty without slowing his pace, fucking John through his orgasm. And after burying his cock as deeper as possible, Dean’s body went rigid and spilled his own warm come inside John’s guts.

Smiling, John moaned at the heat of being filled before collapsing onto the bed. Dean didn’t pull out. Instead, he kept his cock buried inside John until he pumped every last drop of his seed.

Too tired and buzzing with the afterglow of orgasm, John didn't notice that he quickly fell asleep with Dean still on top of him, equally fucked out. What woke him up from his shallow slumber minutes later was the come dripping from his ass and the frisky fingers playing with his well-fucked hole. Turning his head, he caught Dean with a sated smile.

“That was awesome,” Fingers still dancing inside John’s come-coated hole, Dean commented. “I fucked you good, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Breathless, John parroted, ignoring Dean’s teasing tone. He wondered if their talk earlier was the reason why Dean hadn’t left yet. Not that he was complaining or anything but he didn’t want Dean freaking out on him again. _Am I dreaming?_ John thought, but the fingers in his ass answered his question.

And if ever this was all just a dream, John didn’t want to wake up anymore.

“Goodnight, kiddo.”


	4. Day 14: Intercrural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: NSFW Gif
> 
> \---
> 
> Mistakes are all mine.

“Five more minutes,” John mumbled, exhausted. “I need to sleep, Dean.”

It was fifteen minutes before five in the morning when he last checked the time – or when he felt Dean rutting on his thigh, again. His son could fuck, John’s sore ass was the testimony of that, and he envied Dean’s vigor. Even though he wanted to, he couldn’t keep up with Dean. They’ve had been fucking for hours, and for all he knew, Dean had kept fucking him even after he had passed out the fifth time he came.

Now, lying on his side while being spooned by his son, the lights coming from his digital clock beamed six-seventeen in his dimly lit bedroom.

It’s Saturday and they needed to get up in ten minutes, or else, Bobby would chew both their heads off for being late, especially John knowing his son only work there thrice a week.

As if he didn’t sleep at all, John was tired to the bones with all the positions he and Dean had tried. The younger man was a Kama Sutra with legs last night. Even with a little shift of his sore body, every inch of his muscles was protesting in pain, preventing him from shutting his eyes for a few minutes. It felt good during the first few hours, the blooming heat on his backside, but thinking about it now, he couldn’t help but feel stupid at his poor decisions. He wasted more energy fucking than regaining from resting.

He was royally fucked. No pun intended.

Behind him, Dean was humping him again, sliding his cock between his slicked cheeks. The small bottle of lube was long empty and what Dean was using now as a lubricant was his own come seeping out from John's abused hole. With every smooth glide of his son’s length, John tried to find that delicious friction he loved that had his cock hard and leaking, but now, every glide felt like sandpaper against his throbbing hole.

John gasped when the blunt of Dean’s cock slowly entered him. Fuck, it _hurt_. The way it burned was nowhere near pleasurable, anymore, or the same as the first time Dean had penetrated him last night. Grunting and biting his arm, John breathed through his nose as the thick erection sank achingly slow inside his tight velvety grip. Dean knew that they needed to get up for work, and John was holding onto that little information, meaning it would be over soon.

_It would be over soon._

How come something that had started so good ended like this? Before, the ‘it would be over soon’ meant relief to his aching cock, an orgasm. But now, it meant relief to his sore hole, an end of suffering.

He made a monster. No, the sex-starved monster was already there, all chained up and dormant inside his son. He just unleashed it when he spread his legs open like a cheap whore last night. And he’s too tired to fight it off.

Pressed against his shoulder, the soft pair of lips curved into a smile after Dean fully sheathed his cock up to the hilt. Reading his father’s moans of discomfort wrong, Dean started longdicking him without giving him time to adjust.

“I can’t get enough of you.” Dean breathed out as he reached down to hook his arm under John’s knee, pulling it up to give him better access so he could drive his cock deeper, his strokes longer. Licking a long, wet stripe with his tongue on his father’s neck, he nibbled at the shell John’s ear before whispering. “You think Uncle Bobby will notice if we disappeared for ten minutes? I want to fuck your brains out later at the garage. Bend you over on that Mustang you’ve been working on… your skin all covered with sweat… motor oil… and come…”

John simply responded by contracting his muscles, milking his son’s cock and hoping it would speed up the process of pushing Dean over the edge. The stinging of his ass was still unbearable, Dean’s come frothing as lube wasn’t barely helping, but those dirty words coming from his son’s mouth had him hot and shuddering, his cock chubbing up – not enough to give him a full erection, but still, he’s getting there.

Fully awake, John rocked his hips back to meet Dean’s brutal thrusts. He ignored the burn and focused on the little sparks of pleasure he was receiving from the rough fucking, grunting through the pain. Even though that this was supposed to be all for Dean’s pleasure, he couldn’t help but yearn to reach his own climax, a sort of silver lining – or a string of come arching in the air – in the storm of emotions in his chest.

“I’m close,” The words leaving Dean’s mouth was barely comprehensible as his son increased his pace, his hot breath ghosting over John’s skin. “Fuck, you feel so good around me... so fucking perfect.”

As John braced himself from the mindless plowing, the hand keeping his leg up in the air eased its grip to knead his hairy pecs, thumb grazing at the hardening nub. After giving his sensitive nipple a pinch, earning Dean a yelp and a vise-like grip around his cock, the hand slowly made its way towards south, fingertips tracing John’s tight abs until Dean reached the base of his cock nestled in thick, untrimmed pubes.

“You’re …” Dean started but trailed off as he wrapped his fingers around his father’s limp cock. Quickly, he let go of his father as if touching it physically hurt him and carefully pulled out, John breathing out a trembling sigh of relief. Spreading his father’s cheeks, both Winchester men hissed in unison, John at the contact and Dean at the sight before him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The panic rising in Dean’s voice was impossible to miss. “Fuck, you’re so red and puffy.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” John groused as he gingerly lay on his back, spreading his legs open. “Come on, finish your damn business so I could take a shower.”

 _Hot shower_ …

Yep, hot shower was more enticing than an orgasm at the moment, blaming Dean’s brutal thrusts for killing his arousal. And damn it, just the thought of hot water hitting his skin and soothing his aching muscles sounded like heaven. Between his legs, Dean’s eyes flicked at his crotch for a second before locking with his. For once, his son looked unsure, his eyes more expressive than what he remembered. Guilt was present with the lust-filled gaze, but what stood out most from those uncertain green eyes were the unspoken apologies.

John didn’t know how his son’s pretty head work and it would be hypocritical of him if he wanted Dean to be more vocal. Winchester men were just like that… well, except for Sam. His youngest didn’t know when to shut his mouth up when he’s upset, and that boy sure knew how to get under John’s skin.

After a few heartbeats, Dean puffed out a breath, his tense shoulders finally relaxing, and moved as he resigned himself from his arousal. Slowly, he slotted himself between John’s parted legs and surprised his father of what he did next. Without breaking his eye contact with John, green eyes darkened by lust, Dean lowered his head and pressed his lips against John’s stomach.

John gasped at how Dean’s soft lips brushed against his skin.

Whatever Dean was planning, his cock was totally on board with it. Looking hungrily at him under his eyelashes, Dean closed his eyes as he buried his nose in his father’s pubes, inhaling his musky scent. A couple of deep breaths later, John's head rolled back as his cock was enveloped by a wet, warmth.

“Fuck,” John moaned at the glorious sensation. Dean hummed proudly and smacked his father’s hand when John attempted to fist his short hair. _Fine, no touching then._

It didn’t take much time for his blood to start pumping down south towards his cock. Dean sexy mouth was working wonders, tongue running along the underside of his growing length. Soon, Dean's lips were stretched around his thick shaft and began bobbing his up and down, alternating from working his tongue and enthusiastically sucking the bulbous head as his hand stroked the remaining flesh his mouth couldn’t reach.

Explicit slurping sound and moans quickly filled the room. With the beam of light creeping from the window, lightening the bedroom and signaling the start of the day, John saw how breathtaking his son was, beautiful. No, his son was perfect. Too perfect for him and he couldn’t believe that he and Dean were sharing _this_.

With an obscene pop, Dean let go of his father’s cock and crawled up so he and John were at eye level, covering his father’s sweaty body with himself, their erections rubbing up on one another.

“Where did that came from?” John said while caressing his son’s cheek before craning his neck to press a kiss Dean’s sweaty forehead. Damn it, he wanted to come just like that, Dean’s mouth around him and spilling his load inside Dean’s willing throat. But he’s not pushing his luck, maybe next time. “You’ve been practicing behind my back?”

“I’m not a… not a _cock sucker_.” Dean stuttered, obviously not wanting to say _the word_. John only hummed and watched as his son shifted above him, reaching down between them to grab John’s cock. Dean’s face inches away from him, John couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous Dean spit-slick lips were, remembering how they felt around him.  “And I don’t _cheat_ … just you…” Dean added, “it’s always been you…”

John didn’t know how to process that or what that meant, and Dean didn’t give a chance to think. Between his parted legs, Dean raised his hips a little that had John groaning. The pressure wasn’t there moments ago, but now, the tight grip of muscle was there, squeezing his cock when Dean leisurely ground his hips down.

John couldn’t understand how, but it felt good. So fucking good. He’s making love with Dean in a way he hadn’t experience yet, and he wanted more. If this was what Dean was feeling while fucking him all night, then it's a no-brainer why Dean couldn't get enough of his ass. Unsure of what to do with his hands, John gripped the headboard above his head and thrust upward to meet the younger man’s hips.

Breathing hard above him, face millimeters away from his, Dean _shyly_ smiled at him before burying his face on the crook of John’s neck. “Does it feel good?” Dean asked, barely a whisper. Moaning, John made a choked noise on the back of his throat, his brain unable to form words, and focused on how his cock glided _inside_ of Dean.

John was close, too close.

 

 

He wrapped his thick arms around his son’s torso and squeezed both Dean’s firm cheeks with his rough hands, there, trapped between Dean’s strong thighs; the head of his cock was jutting up and down in their synchronized movement like the game of whack-a-mole. And that image alone – his cock sandwich between Dean’s smooth butt – was enough to make him come.

With a grunt, his body jerking, John came hard as Dean kept grinding and rutting above him to reach his own climax. Soon, Dean followed and coated their bodies with warm come.

Almost a dead weight against his heaving chest, John carefully rolled them over so Dean was resting on his back while John was hovering on top of him. Both breathless and grinning at each other like a pair of idiots, John leaned in and captured Dean’s lips with his, their first kiss, sweet yet sure.

“God, I love you.” John breathed out before pulling Dean in his arms.

As they lay there, not caring of the fact that they’re late from work, the words that had rolled off John’s tongue rushed back screaming at him, sobering him up from his post-coital state.

_I love you? He’s your son, you sick sonofabitch! What a great father you are, Winchester._

Unaware of his father’s conflicted emotions, Dean shifted in John’s arms and pressed his lips against the older man’s bearded jaw and whispered. “I love you too.” John only tightened his hold, unsure of what’s right and wrong anymore. Seconds later, Dean added with a chuckle, the vibrations coming from him pulled John out from the storm in his head, a sliver of hope that maybe everything would work out okay between them. “Bobby’s gonna be pissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The gif used here is not mine. All credits to the owner.


	5. Day 16: Frottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I get so fucked up to forget who you are.  
>  I dumb down my head so I can't feel my heart pound. _
> 
> \- Ruston Kelly, Blackout
> 
> \---
> 
> After their first exchange of I love you's, John panicked and did what he thought could solve his problem, ran away and drink himself to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. (And even though, technically, kinktober is finished, I'll still name each chapter depending on the date/day they were supposed to be posted. I'll finish this fic no matter what.)
> 
> CW: I hope that you guys are aware that this story contains a dub-con from the very beginning. Well, for me, this specific chapter contains a rape-y vibe, which is thankfully milder compare to the other stuff out there.
> 
> Additional warning(s): NFSW gif, and Drunken, emotionally constipated John Winchester ahead.

“What the hell are you doing, Dad?” Knuckles white around the steering wheel, Dean gritted out as he made a sharp turn towards their neighborhood, seething with anger. “Bobby’s pissed and Sammy’s getting worried.”

_Sammy’s getting worried… Yeah, right._

John only grunted in response, keeping the thought to himself, while nursing his headache in the passenger seat. The younger man had found him getting shit-faced in a bar outside of town after disappearing for a week, hiding. How Dean had tracked him down, he didn’t know. Because all knew, in his current drunken state, was he didn’t want to go home. No, he didn’t want to sleep in his room knowing Dean would visit him for a fuck or two.

He needed space.

Everything changed when Dean said he loved him too the morning before he disappeared. Maybe for his son, it was nothing but a simple ‘ _I love you, too, Dad’_ kind of way, but for John, it was something more. So much more, actually, that he got blindsided by reality. And fuck, he wished he was wrong.

While working at the garage last week, John had thought that maybe he just got caught up in the moment, the words of a well-fucked person. It could happen to anyone, really, the random I love you cliché after a brain-numbing orgasm. But after enduring what Dean had been doing to him at Bobby’s: the butt slaps that were far from being playful, the stolen kisses on his cheeks or neck, and Dean’s arms wrapped around him from behind while Dean was pressing his erection against the cleft of his ass, he knew something was wrong with him.

He’s responding with Dean’s touches, his cock twitching and ass quivering in anticipation – even though they’re outside the safety of his bedroom. Resisting took most of his willpower not to touch his son back. What pushed him over the edge was when the bell rang, announcing their lunch break, and Dean was grinding behind him with his hands resting on John’s hips. Before even the bell had stop ringing, he was mindlessly pulling Dean into an outhouse installed far away from Bobby’s office; lust had fully overtaken the reign to his movements and pants straining so hard.

There, he had hesitated kissing Dean and had opted necking his son instead, lavishing the exposed skin with his tongue and earning him a guttural moan from Dean. The noises coming from his son were music to his ears and knowing that he was the one causing it had brought him into a blind state of arousal before fumbling on Dean’s belt. What happened after that barely registered to John. He remembered their jeans pooling around their feet and restricting their movements, a pair of soft lips against his sweaty skin, their muffled moans, and him jerking both of their cocks at the same time with his broad hand.

Both of them came, John was sure of that, and what jerk him back to reality was Dean kissing him. The tenderness of their kiss just broke his heart knowing there’s no point of having a relationship with his son. Sooner or later, Dean would found someone and would leave the nest, leaving John alone just like how Dean had left him every night after having his fun. And that thought only verified what his true feelings to his son.

He loved Dean.

True, Dean had stayed once in his bed but that didn’t mean they’re on the same page. Hell, for all he knew, Dean only stayed to fuck him all night. And in less than twenty-four hours, their fucked up coital relationship had turned his head into complete chaos, his heart, body, and soul was yearning for Dean, but his mind was taunting him that everything about his feeling was wrong.

That it was a mistake.

And it’s all because of him. He could easily deny his son but he had chosen not to. He let his cock think for him, and look where that had brought him, falling deeper in love with his son every night.

He needed to end things early before it got worse.

That’s why he left.

He had convinced Dean to go home without him, explaining that he had work to – which was true – before leaving town to drown his feelings away, to numb his heart. But after three days without Dean, he realized that he’s only drinking himself lonely before passing out in the Impala, alone. For a whole week, his routine was the same: wake up with a massive headache and an unbearable longing in his chest… sleep it off… jerking off while fingering himself… and drink himself again to sleep. _Did I eat?_ John thought to himself but had no memory of eating for the past week other than bar nuts and pretzels.

“Hey,” Dean snapped him back to reality by putting a firm hand on his shoulder, “you awake or you want me to carry your drunk-ass inside?”

With a little help from the streetlights outside the street, John noticed that they’re parked outside their house; Sam’s room was the only room that had its lights on. “I’m fine,” John said, half slurring and half grunting, before opening the passenger side’s door. He successfully walked straight for a few steps, but after the fifth, the ground started to spin that had him fumbling to find his center of gravity.

Dean noticed it and swiftly moved to catch his father by the arm before wrapping it around his shoulder. “Here, let me.” The younger Winchester said as he escorted his father inside, half-carrying the drunken man without a fight.

Inside the house, John’s eyes widened at the sight of his bedroom door as Dean slowly walked him there with great effort. “No,” John said a little too loud as he pushed Dean away from him. His son looked at him but he quickly averted his eyes to translate what his son was projecting and stumbled back at the living room, miraculously not knocking anything.

_I can’t sleep there… Dean will… I’m not ready yet… Not yet… Need to stay away…_

John’s instinct told him to run straight towards the front door, just like what Dean had always done months ago in John’s room whenever the boy was started, but as his eyes found the sofa, his tired body win over his confused mind and opted to go there instead.

John was exhausted.

_We can’t do it here... Sam will see us... Dean wouldn’t touch me here…_

As he fell face first on the sofa, spring protesting at the sudden weight, John groaned before curling into a ball. His lips started to tremble against his will as tears rolled from his eyes. _Fuck, I’m too sober for this shit._ He’s scared, scared of his selfish desires, and scared of Dean – losing or having him.

He’s the father; he should be stronger than this.

Behind him, Dean was calling his _name_ – John, not Dad – and it only meant one thing.

“Go to sleep, Dean. It’s school night.”

“No.”

“What do you mean--”

“It’s Saturday, John.” Dean cut off as he sat on the other end of the sofa. “I miss you.”

“Dean,” John warned, but the way his voice wavered made him sound like he’s begging, begging for Dean to stop. Half of him wanted this, but the other coherent half hated himself for wanting something he couldn’t have. “Please…” _stop_.

John’s body started to shake as different emotions surged in his mind like a tidal wave, swallowing him whole before dragging him down into an endless, dark abyss. If only he could let all end with him, then maybe he could salvage what he and Dean used to have before all the sex. Dean would hate him for sure, but he’d be doing it to save them both.

With a pair of strong hands, John found himself being flipped on his back. Stunned, he watched his son slot himself between his legs, who’s looking at him with a mixture of lust and affection. _Don’t look at me like that._ John thought to himself as he closed his eyes shut, a new a batch of tears started falling again on his cheeks.

Slowly, the body above him leaned down to wipe his tears away with a calloused finger, and before he had the chance to pull away from the contact, a pair of soft lips was already pressing against his temple… then his nose… his tear-damp cheek… and lastly, his trembling lips. The contact was cut short and it took most of John's willpower to crush the urge to lean forward and kiss Dean. After a short period of time being separated from Dean, he couldn’t help wanting more. Damn it, he ran away because of Dean, so now was not the time to pursue Dean’s lips. Biting his lower lip, subtly and desperately trying to chase Dean’s sweet taste, he heard his son talking to him.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” John closed his eyes tighter in response. “Look at me!”

With that, John’s eyes snapped open. It’s disrespectful – unacceptable – for Dean to use that tone to him. He glared at his son with an intention to put him back in his place, but his eyes softened at what he saw. Dean was looking at him with a pained expression as though he was mirroring his father, that their predicament was also difficult for him.

For a moment, John and Dean just stared at each other, drinking the sight in front of them that they hadn’t seen for a week. A week that felt like months – no, years – to John knowing Dean was what was missing in his life, especially now that every second staring at his beautiful son had him falling deeper and deeper in love. He wanted this, the closeness more than the sex – more than anything.

But what he wanted was impossible.

“We can’t…” John started, breaking the silence with his husky voice, and trailed off as he left everything unsaid, the thing between them and his feelings. Dean was a smart boy – no, man – to figure it out, John hoped because explaining everything to his son would be torture to both of them.

“Why not?” Dean asked. Unlike his father, who now couldn’t lock eyes with Dean, his soft expression was unwavering, his eyes searching as though he could found an answer from his father’s features.

“You’re my son.” John finally said, and no matter how convincing he had sounded, Dean wasn’t buying it. He was about to repeat himself but the words got stuck in his throat when Dean had furrowed his brows. With a gasp, John’s eyes widened as he felt Dean’s hand cupping his crotch. And there, he realized that he was rock hard underneath the denim of his jeans. “Please, just go.”

_Then push him away, Winchester._

“No,” Dean refused, punctuating his word by squeezing his father’s prominent arousal. “Don’t try to deny it, John. You want this as much as I do, so don’t fucking lie to me.” With that, Dean eased his weight and started undoing his father’s belt and zipper with desperate, nimble fingers to free John’s erection. Seconds later, he quickly did his own as John watched him unmoving with an undeniable spark of lust in his eyes. “I want you,” Dean said as he straddled his father’s hips, “just you.”

Blanketed by Dean’s clothed, warm body as though the boy was burning with fever, John’s back arched as Dean kissed his neck, sliding their cocks together. There’s nothing shy about how Dean moved above him, how Dean possessively mapped his body with his hands and how Dean claimed his neck with his mouth. It’s been days since John had a decent shower and he’s probably reeking with sweat and alcohol but Dean didn’t seem to mind as the boy hungrily traced every inch of exposed skin with his tongue.

A big, rational part of John’s consciousness knew that he shouldn’t be enjoying any of it, but with his current mental state, it was hard to figure out what was right and wrong anymore. He’s drunk, miserable, horny, scared and confused at the same time. But out of the five things messing up with his head, arousal stood out most and won over his better judgment as his hands began to move, his fingers digging into Dean’s ass and lower back to pull his son closer to him.

Pleased with his father’s reaction, Dean’s lips curved into a smile against John’s heated skin, and slowly, he withdrew his face from his father’s neck to watch how the older Winchester threw his head back as he deliciously rolled his hips, grinding their erections together. “This is how much I love you, _John_.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean repeated his earlier question, annoyed of repeating himself while John was denying him of answers. “You told me a week ago that none of this was my fault, that you’re enjoying yourself with me… that it’s okay… that you _want_ me.”

“I was wrong.”

“You’re fucking lying again!” Proving his point, Dean reached down between them and grabbed John’s leaking cock. With his wide hand, even though he couldn’t get it all, the younger Winchester wrapped both of their erection and started stroking them both. While watching his father broke underneath him, Dean rocked his hips in sync with his languid strokes and added. “You can’t take this away from me.”

John only groaned as sensations washed over him.

 

 

Turning his head to look at his son, he was greeted by Dean’s lips capturing his into an intense, passionate kiss. All at once, he was assaulted by everything he was yearning for the past week: Dean’s scent, taste, touch and the silent moans coming from the back of his son’s throat, it was all too much. He felt sick for liking it – no, for loving it – how Dean devoured his mouth like a starving man and how he returned it with much gusto.

Dean broke the heated kiss, tugging John’s lower lip with his teeth, and as their lips parted the slightest distance, he whispered. “It’s okay.”

As John caught his breath, he felt Dean’s free hand running through his hair, fingers scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. _It’s okay, Dad. I’m here._ He heard Dean whispered again while stroking their cocks, warm breath hitting his face. Things – specifically their relationship – were already complicated as they were. And no matter how strong his resolve was, hearing his son promise that things would be okay and he was there, John couldn’t help but give in and finally let go.

John opened his eyes, which he’s not aware of closing, and was met by Dean’s green pair. The way Dean looked lovingly at him had his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly, a huff of breath escaped his mouth as he smiled at his son. For the first time after his hellish week being alone, John was finally at ease.

_Fuck it._

Surprising Dean, John reached out to grab the back of Dean’s head and pulled the younger man to crush their lips together, initiating a feverish kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, drawing blood from Dean’s lips. Between them, Dean’s hand increased its pace as it began fisting their cocks erratically, and John found himself thrusting into Dean’s tight grip.

They found a hurried rhythm, and all John could do was moan while claiming Dean’s mouth, wet and sloppy. There’s a hint of blood mingling with their tongue, but other than that, Dean tasted perfect.

After a few minutes of sucking face and filling the living room with guttural moans, Dean pulled his face and panted, voice low and thick with lust. “I’m coming.”

The words barely rolled of Dean’s tongue, and before John knew it, Dean was already shooting his thick load, his body jerking while messily thrusting his hips. Weirdly enough, Dean was coherent enough to bit back his groan. But with John's imminent orgasm, building and waiting to erupt in his groin, he couldn’t care less if Dean bellowed like a wild animal.

John was fucking close.

On top of him, the weight disappeared and the hand around his cock eased its grip. He was about to make a protest when he felt a wet warmth enveloping his length. Dean was sucking him, his wide, velvety tongue gliding along John’s thick shaft. And after a couple of sloppy sucks, John came with a choked sob as he spilled his come inside Dean’s mouth, arching and throwing his head back in sheer pleasure.

Everything felt perfect – so right.

Wave after wave, John rode it out as Dean kept sucking him dry. For a moment there, John swore he blacked out and what woke him up from his blissful state was Dean’s tongue dancing in his mouth, sharing the residue of himself. Dean swallowed.

“Dean, we --” Breathless, John started when his and Dean’s lips parted but was cut off by Dean kissing him again. “We need to talk.”

“Not now,” Dean gasped, shaking his head. “Not when you’re like this.”

John nodded, exhausted. Even though his head hurt and his eyes felt heavy, thanks to the alcohol still circulating in his body, John felt wonderful and perfect, his body buzzing in contentment.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, yeah?” Dean asked as he stroked his father's hair. John nodded again; eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into Dean’s touch, slowly surrendering to sleep. “I’ll make you coffee first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, coffee’s good...” John mumbled. “and water… and ibuprofen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The gif used here is not mine. All credits to the owner.


End file.
